Ghosts of a Dragon
by namistai
Summary: [One-shot; DracoHermione]Draco reminisces about love, life, and the choices we have to make and the consequences that we face. Dedicated to xBridexofxDraculax


[Author's Notes: This is for xBridexofxDracula]

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JKR.

Plot: Draco/Hermione sad. Wanted this to be different from the story I'm writing.

The fall wind bore the sting of winter in its breath. Draco Malfoy sat in front of the roaring fire in the cavernous living room of Malfoy mansion, a glass of Ogden's firewhisky in his hand. He looked into the fire, tired from the long day at the Ministry but his swirling thoughts unable to let him go to sleep. So he did the best he knew and drank the fire whisky in an attempt to tame them into submission. But like him, they were rebellious and after years of treating himself this way, his mind had become inured to the drowsy effects of alcohol. So he rode the wave of his thoughts in silence, on a fall night like so many others.  
  
He never said anything, never breathed a word to anyone. For better or for worst, he had kept that promise to himself. No matter the cost, no matter the alternate scenarios in his head, no matter the what-ifs. It didn't matter that his dreams were haunted or that his days were filled with phantoms. None of it mattered. In the end, he had done the only thing he could have done.  
  
He walked away from all of it. From everything. From her.  
  
Even if he was the only one that knew that, it was knowledge that had burned itself into his mind, tainting everything around. He took a large swig from the glass.  
  
In the end, maybe people just couldn't change. We are who we are. We are brought up under certain circumstances, within a certain environment and indoctrinated in a certain way. How far we can break from this preconceived mold given to us by our families and accepted within society, he would never know. Perhaps, when simply faced with life altering choices, we simply do not have the courage to take that leap of faith. Or simple, we all were living in an era in which fear, more than being an imminent threat, blinded people to more than the right choices in life but into a life of conformity. He had never questioned the way that things were. From the day he was born, a path had been chosen for him, regardless of the other paths that may have lain in the intersections. He knew what path he was to take.  
  
But knowing what that path was and walking it were two different things. He could have never imagined the world of difference.  
  
Those around him did not note the difference. They didn't know what he had done and what it cost him everyday to done the mask of indifference, educated ennui and dissipation he had perfected over the years. He didn't know anymore if he wore the mask or the mask wore him anymore. It wasn't like he could care.  
  
Once upon a time, he had cared. He had considered ripping it off but in the end, he had not been able to. He would have gladly paid the price. But he knew it would not have been extracted in his blood, but in hers. He would not condemn her to such an existence, to be haunted and hunted, reviled and despised. She deserved to be happy. Happy in ways he would never be able to give to her. They simply were too different, different lives and different worlds.  
  
He still saw her occasionally. It was inevitable. She was famous and he had always been notorious. However, he was always sure that these events were public and well attended. A person could only be pushed to certain limits and even when he had diamond control over his emotions, he didn't dare being left alone with her. It didn't matter that his eyes immediately sought her during these moments. It didn't matter that all they did were exchange cool civilities if they managed to encounter one another. It didn't matter that he would linger looking at her face, drinking in the loveliness greedily, caressing the curve of her cheek. So he continued to look from a far, as he had always done.  
  
She suspected a little. She was too clever not to. But he was sure that with her ever logical mind, she would find explanations and rationalize his odd behavior away. It wasn't like they were friendly. He had never tried for that, knowing that the strain would just make him burst at the seams, although he had more than civil relationships with those around her. But then again, he wasn't known for being pleasant either. It was too easy to pretend not to feel anything.  
  
Besides, it wasn't like they had actually shared something... tangible. Maybe a handful of moments that he always reconstructed in his mind. Maybe a number of glances, a few unguarded moments in which they had looked at each other and seen more than anyone else had. But these were merely trappings of love and life, evanescent trimmings that lined his feverish thoughts. Some people believed that people lay connected at some basic level. He always dismissed these thoughts. They weren't connected except by his own thoughts, and those were inconsequential at best.  
  
She wasn't waiting for him. For her, the day that they had declared an unofficial truce had been nothing more than that. It didn't matter that he had seen the possibilities of more. Or that he had wanted more. He could see the incompatibilities, the cracks in the wall. And he wasn't one to pretend that there wasn't a storm outside and even plugging the holes in the roof and the buckets on the floor could keep the rain at bay. Some would categorize him as a coward. He liked to think he was a pragmatist, wiser in the ways of the world. People didn't live in a fucking fairytale. There never was a happily ever after. What were a handful of moments of ephemeral happiness to a life of misery?  
  
Even if they would have been happy, the rest of the world would have never understood. It was beyond the scope of their preconceptions and stereotypes. Seeing the truth would make them only cling tighter to their beliefs, clutching at them like idols. They would have been scorned because they defied explanation. Despite the breaking down of social barriers, people still stuck to their preconceived notions, paying lip service to the new ideas of unity and equality. Eventually, he knew that things could change. But it would take time, more than his lifetime. Certain scars ran too deep. Eventually the whispered words and glances would have destroyed whatever they could have shared. If it didn't immediately turn them against each other, they would have clutched at their love to keep it from vanishing, simply choking it and letting it slip between their hands like grains of sand.  
  
That would have been worse. A slow descent into hell. And he knew that in the end, he would have just failed her. He had enough disappointment in his life. It was lonelier to live life like this, but at least he was safe from disappointment, pain and suffering. If he had no one to care about him, he had no one to care about.  
  
He could have married somebody else. There were women a plenty that still wanted him, for his looks, for his money, for his name. He still had to find one that wanted him for him but doubted such a woman existed. More importantly, he knew he was a difficult man to live with. He wasn't a man built to love. Perhaps, a long time ago, it would have been possible but circumstances and his own choices had made him a hard man. He had realized a long time ago that women were fickle creatures, one that demanded the entire attention of their mate. If they didn't have that, it would just degenerate into fights, abusive words and cold silences. That would have just been another type of hell, with another person. No, he preferred to be alone.  
  
Because, in nights like these, when the air was chilled and the moon was waning, feelings and emotions he kept hidden burst forth and fluttered around him like lightning bugs. And he wished life were different. A life full of family, love and happiness. Days that were filled with laughter and nights full of love. A woman that was intelligent and impassioned and matched him in temperament and character. A woman that had fire in her heart and cool intellect. A woman he could never have.  
  
Because he was Draco Malfoy, and would always be. And she would always be Hermione Granger.  
  
And always stood between them. Even if he was the only one to know. Draco Malfoy drank the last of his whisky in one gulp and closed his eyes.


End file.
